I work with this woman, and while only the Summer and Fall parts actually happened, I've fantasized about the rest of it many times.
Chapter One: Unexpected sighting.
I was walking along the fence at a local racetrack, looking at the crowd in the stands. This was something that I found myself doing quite a lot. While the people were looking at the replay screens out in the infield, I was looking at them. Only the women, and more specifically, only the women wearing sleeveless blouses. They would stand there with their arms raised and their hands shielding their eyes from the August sun, and as they did they left their armpits completely exposed for my enjoyment.
I love a woman's armpits. I love the way the look, they way they smell and the way they taste. The excitement of sliding my tongue through a girl's armpit is unmatched in my book, and I've had the good fortune to be able to have done it to several women over the years. My wife had grown accustomed to this fetish of mine, and while I know it doesn't do for her what it does for me, she not only accepts it but has come to enjoy the affection a little, and if we ever made love without me giving her underarms a generous amount of licking, sucking and nibbling she would think something was wrong with me. Smooth in the summer, stubbly in the spring and fall, and hairy in the winter. I love her the hairy stage best, but enjoy her armpits all year long and in every state.
Still and all, I enjoy variety, and am always on the lookout for erotic armpit sightings of other women, and that's what I was doing on this day. I had only seen one woman with armpit hair all summer; a cute girl who came from Canada most likely, and I hung around her area for about an hour, listening to her speak her lyrical French while enjoying looking at the modest tufts of brown hair under her arms whenever she raised her slender limbs.
I didn't spend much time looking at any girls wearing blouses with sleeves, but as I passed this one woman, I caught a glimpse of something that made me stop and backtrack casually while moving to get a better angle. It was time that was well spent, because when I went back I saw what I was looking for. The woman was wearing a white blouse with these little sleeves that sort of cap the shoulder, but when her arm was raised I was able to see her armpit clearly, and what an armpit it was.
The slight hollow of her armpit was coated with the thickest and densest stubble imaginable. Not just a day or two's worth either. The hairs were about an inch long, and her pits had a look of a porcupine as the hairs stuck straight out. Hard to tell how long the girl had gone between shaves, but it would take my wife well over a month to get that far along, and I could only fantasize about what the woman would look like when summer turned to fall.
As I dreamed about that sight, I happened to look at her face for the first time. When I did, I nearly fainted. I knew the woman. I worked with the woman for years. It was Laura.
Chapter Two: Laura.
I had dreamed about this moment for years, and now that it was happening I cursed myself for not being able to take a picture. Laura was around 40 years old, and was rather plain looking as contemporary standards go. She had a very thick head of wavy black hair, wore big rimmed glasses, and she had a pair of extremely thick eyebrows. Almost resembling the lead character in the Ugly Betty show, I had always wished that she would come to work wearing a sleeveless blouse, because I had always suspected that she would be a hairy girl under all that clothing, but not only didn't she ever wear sleeveless clothing, she rarely wore even short sleeved tops. When she did, the nice coating of black down on her forearms only reinforced my suspicions, but I never got so much as the briefest peek under her arms to find out. Not until today.
I ducked out of sight before she caught me staring at her, and when I went back to that area later she had either left or had moved somewhere else. I was stuck with that all too fleeting memory and a mess of goo in my underwear that had oozed out of me in that short time. Every time I saw her back at work after that, I fantasized about her armpits - what they looked like under those clothes, and how hairy they had may have become since that day. All I had were fantasies, until October.
Chapter Three: October.
It was a normal day at work until quitting time. I found myself at the coat rack near the door, looking at Laura as she got her coat off the hanger. She was wearing a button down sweater, which was standard apparel procedure for her, but just before she put on her coat she shook her head and went over to her desk and took off the sweater, putting it on the back of her chair. She was wearing a peach colored short-sleeved blouse, and when I saw that I stopped and dilly-dallied at the door, wanting to at least get a peek at the hair on her arms before leaving.
When she went back to putting on her coat, I was staring as much as I could get away with, and maybe she caught me staring. Perhaps that was what caused her fingers to catch in the arm hole, and when that happened, I saw what I wanted to see for so long. It only lasted a second, but it was etched in my memory forever. As her arm lifted, the sleeve rose up just long enough for me to see the thick tuft of hair that practically exploded out of hiding.
The coat went on, and I tried to pretend that I hadn't been staring, saying goodbye to her as usual and going on my way. I wanted to say something else. I wanted to say something like, "I just got a glimpse at your armpit, and I think you're beautiful. I wish you would wear sleeveless blouses so that I could stare at your luxurious armpit hair all day, and I would love to smother your underarms with kisses," but I didn't. Too gutless, and how could I work with her after that?
Besides, she was married and so was I.
Chapter Four: She paid the price.
That evening, my poor wife paid the price for what I had seen. Not that she was complaining, mind you, but she wasn't used to get fucked three times in one night anymore. Not at our age.
"What the hell got into you last night?" she asked me the next morning, as I woke her up by licking the sparse patch hairs that had grown under her arm since Labor Day.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe because your armpits are getting furry again."
Not as fast as they used to, and not nearly as thick and densely as Laura's were, that was for sure. That wasn't fair to my beautiful wife, and she probably was just as happy that as she got into middle age, her hair growth had gotten slower and in less quantity, much like my own did. It also wasn't fair that while we were making love last night, I was inspired by fantasizing about Laura.
Reality ends and fantasy begins...
Chapter Five: Alone with Laura.
The woman sitting on the stool in the center of the room was coming to, but was still groggy. I stood behind her, holding her by the shoulders so she didn't fall down when she actually came to her senses. Her sweater, socks, sneakers and slacks were folded neatly and resting on the other stool. The woman started mumbling something, and so I walked in front of her and looked at her.
